


your side is my side, your fight is my fight

by killianslonghaul



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Speculation, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killianslonghaul/pseuds/killianslonghaul
Summary: "She is important to you, so she's important to me."A quick drabble of Bellamy and Clarke talking, post-reunion. Season 5 spec fic.





	your side is my side, your fight is my fight

It’s still strange, being around so many other people. After so many months of only having one other human in proximity, Clarke thinks she might not be sure how to deal with them anymore.

People keep coming by, asking her how she did it, how she survived, what she did to pass the time—a million questions that she answers as best she can. She keeps looking for Madi in the crowd—something familiar to cling to. The girl is never too far, nearly always in Clarke’s line of sight. Whether the nearness is intentional or not, Clarke is grateful. She thinks that if she couldn’t see her, or didn’t have eyes on her, she might actually go crazy.

(And she’s been there once or twice, already.)

Eventually, it calms down. Everyone stops badgering her, the crowd around her thins to only people that she recognizes. The air isn’t silent, but it’s quiet enough. She plops down on a makeshift bench next to one of the fires, shoulders slumping. Her eyes scan for Madi, finding her to the left, talking to Octavia.

Clarke watches closely, unsure.  Octavia’s expression seems friendly enough, her posture relaxed as if she’s talking to someone she trusts. Madi is listening intently to whatever she’s saying, though her hands are crossed over her stomach. Even straining a bit, Clarke can’t make out what they’re saying, so she gives up. She doesn’t look away though, just watches in silence, ready to step in if she ever senses that Madi needs it.

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on her, too.”

She jumps, though as soon as her body has reacted her mind processes the voice that’s spoken. Still, her heart races from adrenaline as she turns to look at Bellamy, who’s sitting next to her, about a foot away. She isn’t sure when he got there, and guesses that it wasn’t that long ago.

It seems reasonable to assume he would have said something sooner, otherwise.

There’s a pause as she assesses him, watching for a moment as he looks over to where his sister and Madi are talking. She still isn’t sure how to take this new Bellamy, with his longer hair and beard, his even stronger demeanor. Any signs of the boy he used to be are long gone now— six years keeping seven people alive made sure of that.

After a moment, he clarifies. “Octavia. I’m keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t do anything… crazy to anyone.”

“But she’s your sister,” Clarke says, brow furrowing. “What would you do, if she did do something crazy?”

“I don’t know.” He looks toward the ground, solemn. After a pause, his shoulders shrug. “I would do what I need to do, whatever is needed. I just don’t… I don’t really recognize her much anymore. She’s changed. I… I don’t know if you’ve heard—“

“I did.” She cuts him off quickly, trying to save him the trouble of repeating the terrible things himself. The six years underground were not the kindest, and many questioned some of the executive decisions that were made, some of the actions Octavia took to ensure survival. Bellamy doesn’t need to repeat any of them, and she wouldn’t want him to. The pain in his eyes is tangible—a big brother who thinks he’s failed, terrified of the consequences.

“I didn’t want to believe some of them, but… I wasn’t surprised. I wonder… Maybe if I had been here, with her, it could have been different.”

“Whatever happened to Octavia isn’t your fault.” Shifting a little closer to him, she waits until he’s met her eyes to continue. “No one is going to blame you for her actions.”

He’s watching her closely, his expression soft, uncertain, _vulnerable_. His head tilts a little, as if a question is poised on his tongue, but his mouth doesn’t open.

Somehow, she still understands. “ _I’m_ not going to blame you,” she specifies, giving him a small smile.

His nod is slow, his sigh heavy. She glances back toward Madi as he speaks. “Still, I won’t let her hurt Madi. I kind of owe that kid a lot.”

That surprises her—her eyes find his again. “Yeah?”

He fixes her with a look so affectionate, so warm, so expectedly her Bellamy again, that her pulse jumps. “She helped keep you alive, made sure that you weren’t completely alone. I… I owe her everything for that. I’ll never repay that debt, no matter what I do to try.”

It takes her a second to find her voice, a moment longer to decide on the words she’ll speak. “You kept me alive, too—the hope that you were okay, that I would see you again one day. It helped a lot.”

His eyes soften and he looks away, but she can see the corners of his mouth twitching up. She closes the rest of the space between them and leans her head on his shoulder, loops her arm through his elbow and squeezes. A moment passes, and she thinks she feels his lips press against her hair.

“I won’t let anything happen to Madi,” he repeats in a hushed tone, his breath against her forehead. “She is important to you, so she’s important to me. Plus…” He chuckles. “I like having someone to tell stories to, who actually likes them.”

“She does love stories,” Clarke tells him, closing her eyes and relaxing a little against him. “I told her ones about you all the time.”

“The good ones, I hope.”

She laughs a little, glancing up to see a genuine smile on his features, a soft gaze at her that she recognizes. It sends a little thrill through her veins, warming her entire body. “Maybe you should ask her.”

“I may just do that,” he says, reaching over with his opposite hand to rest over the one she still has at the crook of his elbow. He feels so much the same, and yet so different, but under it all, he’s still her Bellamy. She still trusts him, still loves him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers, and it feels insignificant, certainly not enough to describe how she feels to have him with her, to talk to and count on. Madi glances over, and Clarke smiles at her, reassuring.

Bellamy squeezes her fingers, and his lips definitely brush against the skin of her temple this time. “Me too, princess.”


End file.
